


Alternates

by daphnie_1



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, One Shot, Separation, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-26
Updated: 2010-08-26
Packaged: 2017-10-11 20:46:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/116920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphnie_1/pseuds/daphnie_1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>  A tear in reality that shows up once a year gives Kirk and Spock a chance to talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alternates

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the wonderful jaylee_g

There is something wrong with the air.

The only noises Kirk can hear are snatches from the other reality. Noises that sound so familiar but warped – like something Kirk had once known but only half remembered. He can hear voices, at least he thinks they're voices. They sound so loud, almost amplified against the quiet.

Wait, no. They're discordant, one voice contrasted and layered on another, until they sound like nothing but noise.

He sits down on the bench, takes a deep breathe, and smiles quietly to himself. He can barely see anything in front of him – it's fucking early, the park empty, and the air cold. His breathe clouds in the air as he breathes out, considering what to say, considering whether he should even say anything.

"You should see the looks I'm getting, people think I'm nuts," He says, rubbing his hands together to fight off the cold. It's not strictly a lie – if anyone _was_ there to see him they'd think he was nuts.

The noise from the other reality shifts as he speaks and Kirk wonders if his voice sounds like that on the other side, too. Whether it sounds anything like him or whether it sounds like someone, something, else.

"It is pleasing to hear your voice," Spock answers, like he's sitting right there. He kind of is and kind of isn't and it hurts Kirk's head to think about it. Funny, considering that in another life he'd apparently been fucking king of the time/reality paradox. But, yeah, that was another life.

Spock _was_ sitting right beside him – on that exact bench, in that exact park. Just, you know, a whole reality away. Which, Kirk admits to himself, kinda sucks. Well, that's what he admits when he lets himself think about it anyway.

Kirk laughs, which sounds so fucking weird. "Still haven't gotten the hang of contractions huh? One of these days man." He pauses as he imagines Spock sitting on the same bench in the other reality, his eyebrow raised in amusement, and he grins to himself. "Never mind. How's 2009 treating you?"

There's another pause, like Spock's trying to figure something out. "It is 2011."

Kirk nods to himself. Right, time slippage. Gotta remember that. He laughs again, running a hand through his hair. "Right, yeah," and the rest of the words tumble out of his mouth before he can think about them, "I could come get you?"

"And how do you propose we do that?" Spock asks, but his voice has a hint of softness to it, "We do not know how."

Kirk's got to admit, that yeah, Spock's right. They don't know how, and _fuck_ , they've had this conversation way too many times before.

" _He_ could do it," Kirk said.

" _He_ is correct not to."

Kirk shifts further back onto the bench, forcing a smile on his face. "You've got a fucking martyr complex, you know that?" Kirk crosses his arms to fight off the cold. For a second there's a tinge of warmth to the air, the smell of flowers, and Kirk wonders if it was summer on the other side.

Spock's voice rises above the other noises, clear and precise above the din, "The needs of the many..."

"Outweigh the needs of the few or the one. Yeah, I know," Kirk says, not really questioning exactly why he knows. This whole situation is just filled with _déjà vu_ , and not just because he'd done this before, but the proper kind. The kind that came from doing this in another life. From hearing those words and being cut off from Spock and being totally fucking helpless to do anything.

Kirk clenches his fists for a moment – telling himself it's just a reaction to the cold. He wants to speak but the words catch in his throat: 'What about _me_ Spock, what the fuck about me?' But Spock dosen't need one of his emotional displays right now. Not to mention that the impulse is selfish as all hell – he isn't the one in another reality. He isn't the one who'd lost everything he'd ever had and ever known.

Kirk shakes his head, ridding himself of memories that can't possibly be real. He shrugs out of impulse, even though Spock can't see him. "What's a few destroyed realities?" Kirk asks, not entirely sure if he's joking. "It's all good. You'd do it for me."

There's silence for a moment, which, with Spock, was almost as good as an answer. Spock repeats "We do not know how."

No, they don't. There is no way to find a particular reality, never mind a particular time in a particular reality. Spock had been left behind and they could not go back and get him. Kirk had put some thought to the odds – and he'd been pretty damn sure Spock had, too – and the likelihood of finding that reality again? So low it can't even be calculated.

Then they'd found a weak spot. A tear in reality that showed up once a year for a single fucking day. He thought it might have something to do with Nero screwing up the timelines. Kirk likes this theory – it at least meant Nero was good for something.

Naturally, Kirk had also put some thought to tearing through the fucking weak spot. But that would destabilize their realities killing them both and, you know, everyone else, in the process. Which, yeah, he'd conceded a while back was perhaps not the greatest plan he'd ever had.

Three words appear in his head , and fuck, no way is he saying them. He'd never been able to say them before and it somehow struck him as selfish to say them now. Somehow selfish to make that kind of emotional demand when Spock is an entire fucking reality away. But, then, no-one had ever accused him of being thoughtful, had they?

If it wouldn't look fucking weird he'd laugh at the irony. He hadn't said it before because he didn't need to, and when he needed to, he couldn't.

Story of his goddamned life.

So instead he settles for playing with the extra command band on his uniform cuff and quashing a smile as a thought begins to run through his head. The thought that he could just say: 'Hey Spock, guess what? I got you lost in another reality and they made me a fucking Admiral.' just to hear Spock laugh, because really, it'd seemed pretty fucking funny at the time.

They'd promoted him six months after the whole alternate reality gig. He'd told them he didn't want it, but they hadn't listened, despite the fact he'd told them, rather graphically, where they could shove their desk job and promotion. So he'd become the youngest damn Admiral in Starfleet, well, ever, and he'd been able to add that to his nice list of 'stuff James T. Kirk did first.'

There had been a huge fuss, a big ceremony, and ambassadors from parts of the Federation he hadn't even known existed before then. Starfleet had said it was for his service. For the whole Nero gig. That it was for his exceptional bravery – their words, not his – and that he deserved it. But, yeah, they hadn't fooled anyone. Everyone on the Enterprise, everyone that knew him personally, had known it was because the Federation thought he couldn't handle being a Captain without Spock. They'd never said it but they'd never needed to. So they'd grounded him and promoted him so he wouldn't be in the way.

There's a bell ringing somewhere, probably in the other reality, and Kirk realizes that it's been a while since he's actually said anything. He reaches out then, placing his left hand on the bench beside him. The spot in the other reality Spock was sitting. Yeah, he knows the touch won't carry over to the other reality, but he can't quite stop himself.

"Everyone...everyone says hi. They're doing really good." Kirk says, managing to keep a light touch to his voice. Kirk knows they'll all tell Spock that later on when they came to visit but it's something to say. Well, everyone who wasn't currently on a deep-space mission would. After Kirk had been grounded the crew of the Enterprise had sort of scattered. Even though the crew had never talked about it a sort of understanding had developed that Spock wouldn't be troubled with the whole fucking mess.

"That is gratifying to know," Spock says, and a slight pause as Spock chooses his words very carefully. "And yourself?"

Kirk shifts slightly along the bench, not quite sure what to say to that. "Yeah, same as always." Kirk answers, and yeah, he'd lost track of the lies. He was pretty sure that everything he'd said to Spock since he'd been trapped in the other reality had been a lie. He hasn't tell Spock he'd considered not showing. Which is a pretty huge fucking lie even if it doesn't involve any words. He'd considered just, not turning up and leaving them both to get on with their lives. Let them both get the fuck over I it because otherwise? That isn't happening.

Then Kirk laughs, and fuck if it doesn't made didn't make him sound a little deranged, which he kind of hates, not going to lie. "Okay, you know what? No. I'm not fucking okay." He runs a hand through his hair, "Sorry, I know you don't need this. Ignore it okay? It's fine."

He stands up from the bench, and starts pacing, five steps one way and five steps another. Pacing while Spock says absolutely nothing. He can hear the bell ringing again, slightly louder this time, it had a weird echoing quality to it. He notices that a little of the coldness has disappeared from the air, that, or he's angry enough not to notice it. Even if he wasn't entirely sure who he was angry at.

Kirk isn't exactly sure what he expected Spock to say to that. Probably a lecture on emotional control, and accepting things as they are, and Vulcan philosophy until his brain exploded. He'd never actually considered the day where he'd miss those.

"I regret...I am sorry, Jim."

Kirk just nods, 'cause yeah, he was too.

He sits back down on the bench, and takes a few seconds. The next time he does speak all the anger seems to be gone from his voice. "It's just..." and he makes a twirling motion with his hand, hoping Spock would just _get it_ and not make him explain, "...it's fine, okay?"

"As you wish," Spock answers, "As you wish."

Kirk can't help but think about the first time he kissed Spock. About the first time he felt Spock's warm lips on his and how right it had felt. Sometimes, when he focuses, when he focuses real hard he can still feel Spock in the back of his head. Only a hint – the slightest dash of cold, cool, silver – but it's something.

And so they talk, and they laugh (well, he laughs) until the sun starts to rise and it isn't so cold any more. Then they talk for hours after _that_ and Kirk knows that in the other reality, Spock's reality, the sun has started to set.

And in both realities Kirk is sure of one thing, even if it was only one thing: there is something wrong with the air.

 


End file.
